


Midnight

by orioq



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gavroche is a little shit, it mentions a knife once is that important, this is angstier than i expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orioq/pseuds/orioq
Summary: Montparnasse goes for a late night walk.He forgets about the risk of running into her.





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> sorry lol this is really bad?? i can't write angst

Although it was certainly not unusual for the likes of Montparnasse to be out roaming the streets at the somewhat cold hours of dawn, he couldn’t help but feel like these next few hours were going to be different to his past few sleepless nights; nights that were filled with roaming the gloomy, dimly-lit streets of Paris, knife in hand, looking for anyone or anything that he could take his anger out on.

But tonight felt different. Although the young man’s feelings towards life had not changed, and he was still as miserable as always, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.

It’s not like he was about to get his hopes up, though. He had learned his lesson when it came to expecting more than he should.

He tramped on through the streets, wearing an outfit too fancy for this hour, too stylish to be wasted in the darkness, where nobody could possibly see it. Even though Montparnasse was always unhappy with something or other at this time at night, whether it be with life in general or the way someone had spoken to him the previous morning, his seemingly unstoppable angst did not prevent him having an incredible sense of style, one that you would admire if you didn’t know what he was really like.

He lazily shoved a thin, bruised hand into his coat pocket, rummaging around for a wallet that he had stolen from a careless old man earlier. It was not there, which just filled him with a bit more anger and upset – as if he needed any more. He made a mental note to interrogate Gavroche about its disappearance when he could be sure that the boy was awake.  
As he was trying to remember Gavroche’s schedule for the next day, he barely registered turning the corner onto the next street, where an all too familiar figure was sat, crouched and (unfortunately for her) awake. Upon hearing footsteps dragging sullenly through the puddles, she looked up and immediately regretted it. 

Before she could stop herself, her mouth opened.

“Well hello, Mr. Montparnasse.”

All thoughts of revenge vanished from the young man’s mind, and his ocean blue eyes widened dramatically as they searched through the darkness, looking for the girl.

“Eponine.”

The girl sniffed before standing up, sliding her hands into her pockets to hide how much they were shaking from the cold. She made eye contact with the man, her piercing stare making him want to shrink back and run, not that he would ever admit it.

Eponine took a deep breath before walking towards him. She wasn’t going to lie, she had missed him, and she knew in her heart that he had missed her just as much, but still her exterior remained unphased, careless.

Montparnasse wanted to step back but couldn’t, his feet rooted to the ground by some invisible force. He was finally making sense of his midnight walks, he knew in the depths of his soul that they were caused by her. It was her he had been pining for. Not a higher purpose. Her.

He regained his self control and folded his arms. He couldn’t let her know that he cared, not even in the slightest.

“So,” he ran a hand through his hair (which she thought was still as amazing as the day she met him) “where’s your boyfriend, ‘Ponine? Did he ditch you again?”

Eponine held her head high, her mind shooting to the only solution her parents had brought her up to know: sting him right back.

“You never considered the possibility that I ditched him, ‘Parnasse, you’re so closed-minded. Besides, at least I know how to pick up a boy.”

Ouch. That hurt him more than it should have. He improved his posture, so to let her know just how in charge he was, even though he felt like collapsing on the pavement. He wasn’t sure if that would be from tiredness or from just being inexplicably in love with this street urchin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, still feeling her glare on him. Why wasn’t she saying anything? Why wasn’t she making this worse, or trying to hurt him even more? She could tell how vulnerable he was right now. She knew all his tactics, all of his body language.

Before he could stop himself, a tired “I’m sorry,” fell from his lips, which had turned horribly dry, but that was the least of his worries right now.

Eponine walked forwards and took his hands in hers, her breaths shaky and her heartbeat racing. She loved him. She couldn’t deny it. She would never say it to his face, never give him such a thing to gloat over, but it was definite. She still loved him.

She took one long, shaky breath, and then pressed her lips to his jaw, the furthest she could reach. She gazed at the lipstick mark she had left, and knew that leaving him now would be even harder than the first time.

She turned away without looking him in the eyes again. He heard her whisper one distinct word as she sprinted out of the alley, a word that filled him with more despair than every sleepless night of his put together.

“Goodbye.”


End file.
